The Man Behind the Monster
by Arasulgil
Summary: The tale of how prejudice can change everything.


**Author's Note:**

**School:** Beauxbatons

**Year: **5

**Theme:**Werewolves (Prejudice)

**Prompt/s:**10\. (Character) Lord Voldemort

**Word Count: **1 530

**Clarification Points: **Greyback did not have any problems at Hogwarts, so he must have been bitten after. His official wand is not mentioned, so I made one based on Pottermore. He was born before 1945, so I changed it so he and Voldemort are the same age in this fic.

* * *

_11 years old_

"Mum, my Hogwarts letter's come!" an eleven-year–old Fenrir Greyback yelled, racing into the spotlessly clean kitchen.

"That's nice, dear. We'll ask your father to take you to Diagon Alley when he goes tomorrow."

"I have to wait _one whole day _to get my wand?" the little boy cried disappointedly.

"Yes, dear. Be patient for once!"

Fenrir felt the wait was worth it, though. His new wand was made of yew, with a core of dragon heartstring. "Remember, take care of this well," his father whispered, handing the dusty box to him. "Dragon heartstring cores have power-a lot of power."

"What was the owner muttering about "dark" and "sinister", then?"

"Nothing to worry about, child. As long as you are good, nothing will happen to you."

_If only he could have remembered that six years later…._

~ooOOOoo~

_First day at Hogwarts_

Fenrir sat in a corner of an empty carriage, waiting for the train to begin its journey. The final bell rang. The many students outside who were talking to their families grabbed their trunks and rushed inside. The compartment door opened, and a black-haired boy walked in.

Fenrir observed the other boy critically. He looked like a first year, from the way he was surveying the train with interest. Yet his tall, upright posture and confident walk exuded a clear message_: I may be new, but I'm not weak. Watch your back, I'm in charge._ He had no idea what to do, but apparently there was no need: the other boy plopped into the seat opposite him, rested his elbow on the window ledge and stared rather feverishly out of the window.

_Am I supposed to introduce myself? _he wondered frantically. _He doesn't look like he wants to talk!_

Fortunately, at that moment, the other boy decided to turn around, looking him squarely in the face with gray eyes.

The silence was thick, so he hastily broke it by holding out his hand. "I'm Fenrir."

The other boy surveyed him coolly, as if deciding whether to answer or ignore him. "I'm Tom," he said, gripping Fenrir's hand and grimacing as he said it.

Surprisingly, the rest of the journey was spent in uncomfortable silence.

~ooOOOoo~

_The Great Hall: the Sorting_

"Greyback , Fenrir."

He got up, his legs trembling.

"Let's see," the hat mumbled. "Not enough wisdom for Ravenclaw, not enough loyalty for Gryffindor. Hufflepuff would change you, but I think your talents would fit best in SLYTHERIN!"

He strode to the table almost confidently.

"Riddle, Tom."

He walked up to the stool and jammed the hat on his head.

"Merlin's beard," the hat muttered. "This one's got talent, almost as much as Gryffindor himself (_I knew that, idiotic hat!)_ but he's using it for other things. No chivalry or loyalty here, and a whole lot of cunning. Welcome to SLYTHERIN!"

The last word was yelled, bouncing off the castle's stone walls. At the teachers' table, Dumbledore surveyed him with eerie blue eyes, but at the moment, he didn't care.

As he reached the table, Fenrir's blue eyes met his. _Eh, he might come in handy, _Tom mused. He grinned. "Looks like we're roommates, Fenrir."

~ooOOOoo~

They got to know each other. Well, Tom got to know about Fenrir more than the other way around, but they were still fairly good friends. Along with a group of other Slytherin first-years, they spent their lunch breaks and late nights.

As they slipped into fourth grade, though, the dynamics changed. None of them noticed other than Tom, who wanted the change.

It gently merged into a clique, as most teenagers did. Tom was at the head, Fenrir a distant associate. Their friendship became strained, tense. Yet hardly anyone suspected that anything was amiss.

That year, the ways parted. After they left that term, it would be a long time before they saw each other again.

In truth, the cause was more about Fenrir. Tom was always friendly towards him, but he sensed something different within the boy, something tainted that he couldn't quite place his finger on. So he distanced himself from Tom. The latter seemed to take it lightly, even writing down his new address "in case you ever want to chat".

Tom knew Fenrir was too weak for his cause, too gullible. But he could still be used.

He dismissed it with a shrug. It would hardly make any difference to him.

~ooOOOoo~

_Seventeen years old, three months after leaving Hogwarts_

As Fenrir walked home one night, he heard howls.

He mentally slapped himself. He should have known the landlord wouldn't rent land for such a cheap price if it was safe and whole. But still…

_It's probably a normal grey wolf. I've seen lots of them. Nothing to be afraid of….right? _Then he heard human screams.

Maybe he could creep behind a bush and sneak a quick peek at the source of the noise. He decided he would, so he sheltered behind a sturdy pine tree and peered out. The sight that met his eyes was terrifying.

In front of his small cottage, at the fringe of the small forest that surrounded his house, was a werewolf.

_How did that happen? _he asked himself.

Then he realized, with growing dread, that it was a small wood near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He wondered how he had not noticed it for so long. Looking for a job with his meagre OWL results of one E, four As and a handful of Ps was not easy, though. That was why: he had been so preoccupied that he had not noticed! He hoped it wouldn't cost him his life.

The wolf pricked up its ears.

_Not me, please, please run back into the forest,_ he prayed. It was no good: the rustling of the bush attracted the werewolf.

With a strong bound, it charged.

Deciding there was no use in hiding now, Fenrir stood up. His senses seemed to leave him. "Stupefy!"

The Stunning Spell hardly affected the wolf, and only annoyed it. It leapt onto him, knocked him to the ground and sunk its teeth into his shoulder. The pain overtook his assaulted senses, and he lost consciousness.

~ooOOOoo~

When he woke up, he found the landlord standing over him. "Move out NOW," he said, fuming.

Still groggy, Fenrir managed to sit up. "Why?"

"I do not shelter werewolves, or any monsters of the sort. Out, or I'll call the Ministry."

He took the Knight Bus to his parents' house and knocked on the door. He suddenly felt awkward, standing on the doorstep in wet and bloodstained clothes, but he had no other choice.

His father opened the door and took one look at his son before opening the door wider. "I almost didn't recognize you," he said. "What happened?"

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course, come on in. There'll be time for questions in the morning."

Gratefully, Fenrir collapsed onto the sofa.

The morning brought quite a different turn of events. After breakfast, the questioning started.

"What happened last night, dear?" his mother asked.

He could not hide forever. Besides, they were his parents: if they did not accept him, who would?

"I got thrown out," he admitted.

"If you couldn't afford rent, you should have owled us," his father said. "That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"It wasn't that."

"Then what was it? Did someone else offer a higher rent? Did you damage the place? Come on, there's nothing to be afraid of."

Fenrir had to tell them. "No, it was none of those. He called me a monster."

It seemed like his father was starting to put two and two together. "What exactly happened last night?"

"I was bitten by a wolf," he said, training his eyes on the carpet. "After I regained consciousness, the landlord told me to get out before he called the Ministry."

His father's wand was out within seconds, and rightly too. "He was right to," he said coldly. "Go away."

Fenrir felt like he was drowning. "It wasn't my fault!"

"I don't care," his father retorted. "You were foolish enough to get bitten, and now you _are_ a monster. Werewolves are not welcome under my roof. You are no son of mine."

On hearing a Stunning Spell shoot from his father's wand, he turned and fled.

~ooOOOoo~

He spent days, weeks, even months looking for a job. His situation became so desperate that he could not afford food. He begged, stole and lived rough.

There was not a single person willing to hire him. At the beginning, it almost felt like a joke, but it only got worse. He was unable to comprehend how so many seemingly kind, harmless people could treat him differently just because he had got bitten. _It wasn't my fault! h_e wanted to yell. It wouldn't have made any difference, he reasoned, after two months of trying. The Wizarding World was chock-full of prejudice.

Something woke up inside him, something evil and twisted. He did not have the power to quash it.

That was how Voldemort found Greyback, feeding off a young girl. He was kept as a pet, but Greyback didn't mind.

All he wanted was revenge.


End file.
